


Denouement

by Amelia_Clark



Series: Good Books, Bad Movies [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Moving In Together, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 05:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amelia_Clark/pseuds/Amelia_Clark
Summary: Despite the speed of his courtship with Cas, Dean had never really believed in love at first sight. Sure, something had happened to them right away, sparking between them in that handshake neither could let go—that something wasn't capital-L Love, but it didn't have to be to have changed their lives irrevocably. He'd read a few novels where instant devotion worked as a trope, but he remained skeptical in real life.Until Linda Tran unlocked the front door of the little gray house, and he had to reconsider that notion.





	Denouement

Despite the speed of his courtship with Cas, Dean had never really believed in love at first sight. Sure, _something_ had happened to them right away, sparking between them in that handshake neither could let go—that something wasn't capital-L Love, but it didn't have to be to have changed their lives irrevocably. He'd read a few novels where instant devotion worked as a trope, but he remained skeptical in real life.

Until Linda Tran unlocked the front door of the little gray house, and he had to reconsider that notion.

*******

Kevin's mom, Linda, had come into the bookstore two days before to give her son a ride home—his moped was on the fritz again. While Kevin dawdled over the ARC shelf in the back room, she leaned on the counter and proceeded to interrogate Dean thoroughly in the guise of 'catching up'; as usual, he found himself answering her questions before he thought about whether they were inappropriate. (He still couldn't figure out how she did that, but suspected it might be a superpower.)

So when Linda asked, "And how's that tattooed dreamboat I saw you with on Tumblr?", he'd told her about Cas and their imminent cohabitation before he even thought to wonder aloud, "Wait, you're on Tumblr?"

"I run one for our corgi, Joan Watson. She's also very popular on Instagram," Linda said airily, waving her words away even as she said them. "More importantly, it's your lucky day, because I happen to be the best damn real estate agent in the county. Don't talk to anyone else, Dean, you know I'll find you two the perfect place. Let me think, are you looking for a two-bedroom, or—wait, I know," she said with a sly smile. "I should show you the library house."

"The library house," he repeated. "I gotta admit, that sounds intriguing—but Cas can't get to town to househunt with me for another week."

"What's the harm in looking?" she responded, crooking an eyebrow. 

"That's what he thought about Cas, too, and you see how that went," Kevin said as he joined them. "Come on, Mom, stop trying to sell my boss a house."

"I am trying to buy a house, dude," Dean told him, though that wasn't strictly true; Cas would be ponying up most of the down payment. There was still a part of Dean that felt shitty about that, but he was ignoring it as hard as he could.

“See? He doesn't mind, Kevin,” said Linda. She reached over the counter to grab a piece of scratch paper and scribbled down an address. “Come see this house, Dean, you won't regret it, and neither will your beau.”

They found a time that worked for both of them, and Dean was actually early, though not earlier than Linda, who was sitting on the stoop playing Neko Atsume on her phone. She grinned and waved when she saw him, then stuck out her hands: “I need you to get me up,” she said ruefully, and he obliged. Rising with a creak of tendons, she dug the keys to the house out of her purse and cocked an eyebrow. “Ready?”

Dean nodded. The house looked nice from the outside, if unassuming; two stories, shuttered windows, a wrap-around porch, all painted dove-gray with white trim. “It's two bedrooms, two full baths,” said Linda as she unlocked the deadbolt. “Finished basement, original hardwood floors, and all the appliances were replaced about five years back. But that's not why you'll love it.” She flung the door open with a flourish and motioned Dean inside. 

The first thing he saw was bookcases. Built-in, floor to ceiling, with mullioned glass doors, they stretched along all four walls of the front room, interrupted only by windows. Awestruck, he stepped further into the room, spinning slowly to take it all in—then he saw through a doorway that the next room, too, was lined with bookcases. He turned to look at Linda with wide eyes. “Wow,” was all he managed to say.

“I know, right? The couple who built the house were both librarians, and they needed the space, just like you and Castiel. There're bookcases in every room, even the bathrooms, and there's a shelf over the stove for cookbooks if you want. Perfect, right?” Beckoning Dean to follow, she started a slow ramble through the ground floor; Dean trailed in her wake, one hand brushing along the fronts of the bookcases. 

“Yeah, it really is, Linda,” said Dean with effort. “I have goosebumps, see?”

Linda laughed and patted his bristling forearm. “You know everyone else I've shown this house to immediately wants to tear all the bookcases out? I'm so glad no one decided to go for it, so I could save it for you. You deserve nice things, Dean.”

“That's what they tell me,” Dean said. 

*******

They bought the house. _(Cas bought the house,_ whispered a voice in Dean's head. _Because he wanted to, said another, more logical whisper—because he wants to live with you.)_ Castiel had been even more gobsmacked than Dean by what he deemed the “perfection” of the library house: “It's like it was built specifically for us, Dean! We can shelve by subject! Library of Congress, maybe?” In fact, he'd been so excited by the prospect of organizing their books that he “accidentally” locked the two of them in a closet, kissing Dean breathless while a not-at-all-fooled Linda searched for the key.

On a balmy day in early June, Castiel pulled his U-Haul up to the curb out front and parked behind his own Saab, backseat stuffed full. His publicist, Meg, was perched on the hood smoking a cigarette; she'd driven it down from Pontiac for him, despite his protests that this was well out of her job description. “Ehn, it's a day out of my life to make sure you're settled,” she shrugged. “You gotta remember, angel, you're one of our biggest names. Keeping you happy is my job description.”

“Thanks again, Meg,” he said. “Was the drive all right?”

She exhaled, turning her head away from him. “Sure, it's a good little car,” she said. “Pretty beat, though. Do you mind if I don't carry a lot of heavy shit?”

“As far as I'm concerned you don't have to carry anything,” said Cas. “If you want to, though, there's some bags of clothes that probably don't weigh much.”

“Sounds good.” She licked her fingers and snuffed her half-burned cigarette, stuck it in the pocket of her leather jacket. 

The front yard was already bustling; Dean had been persuaded to close the store early so his whole staff, even weekend part-timer Krissy, could show up to lend a hand. At Castiel's arrival, Charlie put down the box she was carrying—unsurprisingly marked BOOKS—and ran to give him a hug. “You're here! Happy housewarming, dude!”

“Thanks,” said Cas, remembering at the last minute to hug back. “I can't believe you're wasting a day off helping us move, Charlie.”

“Oh, I'm not doing it for you,” she shrugged. “It's all in the service of Twu Wuv. Plus, I get pizza and beer out of the deal, those are the rules.”

“Fair enough,” said Cas. “Is Dean inside?”

“Yeah, I think he and Kevin are setting up y'all's bed,” she said. Cas nodded approvingly—he and Dean had decided to use the IKEA bed Cas had bought on his first visit, though Cas's bed was objectively nicer. “We'll be like Shakespeare and Anne Hathaway, sleeping together in the second-best bed,” Dean had said while sprawled naked and sated across said piece of furniture. And Cas, overcome with sentiment, had kissed him and kissed him until they were both hard and aching again.

Navigating through a warren of boxes—it looked like Dean had gotten sick of writing BOOKS at some point, progressively dropping letters until several of them were just marked with a Sharpie-scrawled B—Cas headed for the master bedroom. Even if he hadn't known where it was, he could've just followed the sound of Dean's voice, cutting through the bustle of the move with a gruff godDAMNit; suppressing a smirk, he leaned on the doorjamb with hands in his back pocket, taking it in: his man, in their room, struggling to screw their headboard to the rest of their bed.

“Hello, Dean,” he said. “Having some technical difficulties?.”

Dean pushes sweaty hair out of his eyes and grins, salutes him with the screwdriver. “Hey, baby,” he said. “Yeah, I don't think this bed was actually designed to be moved. One of the slats sort of crumbled when we shoved it in the back of the car, but I think I glued it back together okay. How the fuck did you put this together by yourself? Kevin and I have been at this for an hour.”

“I'm good with my hands, I guess,” Cas said with a shrug and a raised eyebrow.

“Hardy har,” said Kevin. “Come over and do this, then, I'll go help Anna unload the kitchen stuff and you guys can—I mean, it's your room now, you can do whatever. Just don't, you know, keep doing it while the rest of us work, okay?”

He didn't close the door behind him, and tempting as it was to lock everyone out and go to town on each other, Cas left it open, though he kissed Dean thoroughly before bending over the half-assembled bedframe. “I think this is backwards,” he said, “What if we flipped it over like this?"

Dean crowed in triumph. “That's it, damn! You're brilliant.” Dean kissed him on the mouth, then, after a glance over his shoulder, on the underside of his jaw. “Wouldja look at that, now it goes in just fine.”

“That's what she said?” Cas offered, and Dean gave him an unimpressed look.

“All right, funnyman, hold those steady and we'll be done in no time.”

“No time” turns out to be another twenty minutes, and by that time the others have carried in most of their remaining possessions; another hour and the furniture's in, Charlie's hooked up the router, and they're all sitting in what will become the living room, on a chair or a box or the floor, gathered around a stack of pizza boxes like a bonfire. 

Krissy rolled her eyes when Anna handed her a Coke from the cooler instead of a beer. “Thanks, Mom,” she muttered.

“Ugh, don't even say that as a joke, I'm a cat mom, not a human one. Dean's nurturing—he can be your work mom, and I'll be your cool aunt.”

“Cool aunts let you dri-ink,” said Krissy in a singsong. “So does my actual mom, when I'm at home. You're being my grandma right now.”

“Dean,” said Anna, “are you gonna sit here and listen to this rank insubordination? Give her a demerit or something.” 

“It's true, you're fired,” said Dean with a grin. Krissy stuck her tongue out at him.

“I wanna be a cool aunt too,” said Charlie, picking pepperoni off her pizza slice and depositing it on the side of Kevin's plate. “One gay, one straight, best of both worlds!”

Dean smothered a laugh in his beer. “I wouldn't call Anna 'straight,' exactly. How many times did you hook up with Ruby our sophomore year?”

“Oh, sure,” said Anna dismissively, “but we were always on—”

“—line,” Charlie jumped in with a significant glance at Krissy. “Anna, no one wants to hear about your gross 90s cybersex. How long did it take to download a nude back then, like a week?” Anna socked her in the arm; Charlie retaliated in kind.

“Honestly, you two remind me more of my cousins,” said Krissy.

“Are they cool?” asked Charlie hopefully.

“One of them's a stage magician, and the other's an elevator inspector.”

“So they're _super_ cool, you're saying.”

Meg drained her beer and set the bottle down on the mantelpiece. “I have to run, Castiel,” she said, giving him a hug, “one of my mystery debuts is doing a Skype session with a book club and I need to save them from answering the same question half a dozen times.” She wrinkled her nose. “I have to shower first, though, or they'll be able to smell me through the ether.”

She smelled fine—actually kinda sexy, vanilla tinged with salt, but Cas didn't mention it. “Thanks for your help today,” he said into her hair. “You're the best.”

“That I am,” she said, patting his cheek. “Take care of him, Dean, okay? He's precious cargo.”

“I know,” Dean said. “Thanks.”

Meg's departure broke up the party; Kevin took off on his Vespa, Charlie clinging to his back, Anna left to walk home, and Krissy's mom showed up soon after. And then Dean closed the front door behind them, and they were alone. Alone, in the house they own together.

*******

Dean strolled over to Cas, sprawled out on the couch, and tumbled into his lap, one knee nudging between his thighs. “We did it,” he said, ruffling Cas's hair. “We live together.”

“And we have all the time in the world not to fuck,” Cas said with a smirk, shoving both hands down the back of Dean's jeans. “Totally optional.”

“Yep. No need to rush,” said Dean, and pulled Cas's shirt over his head. “Definitely no reason to do it right here when our bed's all set up in the next room.”

Cas kissed him, hard, pushing his tongue deep into Dean's mouth; he unzipped Dean's fly and tugged his pants down enough to get a better grip on his ass. “No reason at all,” he mumbled. “Take your shirt off.”

Dean obliged, pressing his knee more firmly into Cas's hard dick and licking his ear. “I wanna suck your cock, baby,” he said breathlessly, unbuckling Cas's belt.

“There's a surprise.”

“Shut up, you love it.” Dean sank to his knees in front of the couch and worked Cas's pants and boxers down to his ankles. He trailed wet kisses over Cas's hipbones, fingers fluttering light and easy over his cock. “I love it too, it's perfect. Your cock is perfect.” 

Cas moaned as Dean took him into his mouth with a pleased hum; Dean reached over for his hand and put it on the back of his head. “Fuck my face,” Dean said, then licked up the length of Cas's dick. “Mess me up, I want it rough.”

“You usually do,” panted Cas, thrusting up as he held Dean's head in place. Dean made a noise of pure satisfaction and closed his eyes, sucking eagerly as Cas's cock prodded at the back of his throat. “Your mouth was made for this,” Cas whispered.

Maybe—Dean's heard that before, from women too—but in this case he's pretty sure it's Cas who's made for this, whose dick was designed to fit so well in Dean's mouth, so sweet and right. Dean tried to swallow around him, gagged, got through it; he grabbed Cas's hand again, not sure whether he wanted his hair pulled harder or his face forced further against Cas's pelvis. “Ah, fuck, I'm gonna come,” said Cas, “can I, can I come on your face?”

Dean pulled off quickly, replacing his mouth with his hand, jacking Cas fast and steady until he came with a cry over Dean's lips and chin; Dean licked up as much as he could. “Love how you taste,” he said. “Love how you feel. Love you, Castiel.”

“Love you too,” said Cas, his hand in Dean's hair gentle now. He gathered up his own come from Dean's cheek and slid it lazily over his bottom lip. “Get up here so I can show you.”

Dean climbed back on top of him, getting his shoes off on the way so Cas could remove his jeans and arrange him on hands and knees on the couch, bent over one arm. “I'm going to make you come without touching your cock,” growled Cas. “Uh, if you know where we packed the lube.”

“Heh,” Dean said, “check my jeans pocket.”

Lube retrieved, Cas parted Dean's ass cheeks and brushed the pad of his thumb over Dean's hole. “Speaking of perfection,” he muttered, and dove in with his mouth.

“Ah, holy fuck,” gasped Dean as he pushed back into Cas's tongue. “Cas, that feels so damn good.”

Cas grunted agreement, slurping at Dean's hole until his tongue slipped into him. True to his word, he didn't touch Dean's dick, but his hands roamed the rest of his body, pinching nipples, stroking over his skin until Dean shivered. Cas didn't move his head away while he slicked his fingers up with lube, and slowly slid in two at once, still licking at Dean's rim while he zeroed in on his prostate. “You like that?” he purred. “You like it when I fuck your ass, however I do it?”

“You can—oh, fuck—you can fuck me however you want. I'm putting you in charge.”

“Stay here for a minute.” Cas fumbled for Dean's hand, urged him to finger himself; it wasn't the same, but Dean did what he could, pumping his fingers in and out until Cas returned and he felt an unexpected pressure nudging against him.

“Shit, 's that a dildo?”

“It is indeed,” Cas purred. “Found it while I was packing. I'd like to fuck you with it until you come all over yourself.”

“Turn me over, then, like this I'm just gonna come all over the couch.”

“Fair enough.” Cas flipped him and kept working the dildo into his ass. “Don't touch yourself, and don't touch me,” he said. “Hold onto the arm of the couch so you're not tempted.”

“Yessir,” Dean gasped. He spread his legs wider, hooking one over the back of the couch and putting the other foot on the floor—this gave him the leverage to fuck back onto the dildo, meeting Cas thrust for thrust. _“Ohfuckthatfeelsgood.”_

“You look so good from here, Dean,” Cas said, voice awestruck. “You're so fucking greedy for it, so hungry to be stuffed full.”

“Your dirty talk has really improved, baby,” was the last complete sentence Dean managed to get out before his eyes rolled back in his head and he just started chanting meaningless syllables. Cas stooped to kiss him as he came, then cleaned him off thoroughly with his tongue, easing the dildo out of him.

“One room down,” Cas said. “Kitchen next, do you think? I'd like to fuck you bent over the counter.”

“You got it,” said Dean. “Naptime first. I'm exhausted.”

“Manual labor and an orgasm will do that.” 

Before lying down, though, Dean rummaged through a box he hadn't opened for years—full of things that reminded him of his parents, that he couldn't get rid of but didn't want to look at every day. His dad's journal, his mom's handwritten recipe for apple pie—a newspaper-wrapped object his hand knew instantly. “Oh shit, I thought I broke this!” he said, uncovering a slightly chipped ceramic statue. It's a little tow-headed angel, bare feet crossed and wings rising from its back in the shape of a heart.

“That looks like something they'd find drugs in in an episode of _CSI,”_ said Cas.

“Hey!” said Dean. “My mom gave this to me when I was a kid. We never went to church that often, but she always told me angels were watching over me.” He set the statue down on the windowsill above their bed. 

Cas kissed him on the cheek. “Sorry. You know I'm named for an angel, right? Angel of Thursday, shield of God.”

“Watch over me, then,” said Dean with a yawn. “Be my angel.”

“Always,” said Cas. “I'm always yours.”

 

*******

Two springtimes later, Castiel Novak's fourth novel was published. _Kill the World,_ despite its title, was a hopeful, redemptive love story, the tale of two men who meet in Hell and drag each other out. Some of his fans weren't happy, complaining that fantasy novels “weren't about romance,” but it made the bestseller list anyway—in fact, he found new readers who wanted their fantasy to be emotional, to reflect the realities of human connection within imaginative new worlds. 

The dedication page read simply: _**For Dean, who reads me like a book.**_

**Author's Note:**

> OMG I FINISHED IT
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting over the years, especially if you've been with this goofy self-indulgent series from the beginning! Also, I would like to state for the record that I've had that last line in mind since literally January 2014. :D


End file.
